


Stars 6-Goldilocks

by stargatefan_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-08
Updated: 2005-02-08
Packaged: 2018-10-06 12:59:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10335263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stargatefan_archivist/pseuds/stargatefan_archivist
Summary: SPOILERS: Shortly after New Order Pt 2SERIES: The Stars, S8 fic series although this fic stands aloneSUMMARY: Not everyone got the news about Jack’s promotion





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Yuma, the archivist: this work was originally archived at [Stargatefan.com](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Stargatefan.com). To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [StargateFan Archive Collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/StargateFan_Archive_Collection).

  
Stargate SG-1 Missing Scene Fanfiction - Stars 6-Goldilocks

##  Stars 6-Goldilocks

##### Written by Badgergater  
Comments? Write to us at Badgergater@cs.com

  * SPOILERS :Shortly after New Order Pt 2
  * SUMMARY : Not everyone got the news about Jack's promotion
  * SERIES: The Stars, S8 fic series although this fic stands alone
  * PG [Hu]



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As I trotted up the spiral stairs from the control room below, I spotted Colonel Dave Dixon in the briefing room, pacing impatiently.

"Hey, Jack, how's things?" he asked.

I stopped for a moment, disconcerted. Okay, this was a problem, one I hadn't thought about. Sure, I knew my own team was going to have trouble remembering to call me General instead of Colonel, but I hadn't thought about the other officers, some few of whom, like Dixon, had been of equal rank and were used to calling me by my first name.

Apparently, it doesn't say general anywhere on my uniform yet. In fact, I know it doesn't, because my first executive decision was that I wasn't going to dress like a general when I was on my own base. Sure, when I went to meetings with the Joint Chiefs or the President or the SGC Oversight Committee, I would have to dress up, but not everyday. No sirreee, not this soldier. I wasn't even going to go Hammond's route. BDUs are my comfort clothes, and, despite the fact that it was only my second week in this job, I could already see I was going to need as much comfort as I could make for myself, any way I could.

And the clothes were one way I could.

But they were also, obviously, a problem.

"Colonel Dixon? Have an appointment or something?" which, if he did, I'd forgotten.

He waved a hand at the general's office. "I was just waiting to see the general."

"Ah, well then," I walked on past him, past the briefing room table, and into the office, flipping on the light switch as I entered, and, as nonchalantly as I could manage, because it still felt weird, slipped around behind the big desk and flopped into the comfy leather chair.

"Ah, Jack, what are you doing?" Dixon looked surprised, like he had just seen Goldilocks trying out Papa Bear's chair.

"Sitting down," I answered smugly, with my best Goldilocks smile.

"In the general's chair?"

"Yes, in the general's chair."

Dixon lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Won't General Hammond be, ah, upset? That you're using his office? Sitting in his chair? Pretending to be him?"

"I don't think so," I answered, reveling in the moment. Dixon, I just remembered, had been on 30-days leave. Probably hadn't had time to read his memos yet.

Including the one that announced the new commander of the SGC, Brigadier General Jack O'Neill.

Actually, I was enjoying this, I realized. A new benefit of my new title that I hadn't realized until this moment I was going to get to order the Marines around. And the Russians, too. Yeehaw, as my predecessor would have said. "So, Dave, what's the problem?"

"Sorry, Jack, much as I'd like to, I can't tell you. This really is for the general's ears only."

I sat forward in the chair, leaning my elbows on the desk, thoroughly enjoying the moment. "I *am* the general, Dave."

"Right, flyboy," he mocked.

"That would be General Flyboy to you, *Colonel*."

He laughed again. Honest to god, he laughed, right out loud. "Okay, Jack, what sort of weird alien fairy dust have you been inhaling now?"

"None, Dave," I sat back, steepling my fingers in front of me. "I guess you didn't get the memo."

He chuckled, despite the little worry line that I could see beginning to form between his eyebrows. "What memo? The one that said you're nuts? Got that one a loooong time ago, Jack."

I enunciated the words clearly and distinctly, so even a Marine could understand. "The memo that announced General Hammond has been re-assigned. And that I've been promoted."

I waved a hand at the sign on my desk, realized it was covered by a stack of personnel folders that had slid off the mountain-sized pile of requisition forms on the right hand side of my desk. Rescuing the little wooden sign from the reams of paper covering it, I brandished it with a flourish, dusting it with the end of my sleeve before setting it down on the so-far relatively clear left-hand side of my desk. 

I watched as Dixon's eyes fixated on the little gold letters, the ones that spelled out Brigadier General J. O'Neill. His eyes got big and round and amazed.

"Ah, General," he said, coming rigidly to attention and looking like he'd just swallowed something sour.

"Yes, Colonel?"

"Sorry, Sir, I didn't know."

"I surmised that, Colonel."

"No hard feelings, General?"

"None, Colonel Jarhead."

"No disrespect intended, Sir."

"I know just what you intended, Colonel."

Dixon gulped. "Thank you, Sir. I, uh, I think, uh, I need to, ah, go catch up on my memos now, General, Sir."

"Do that, Colonel." I watched as he turned and started to leave. "And Colonel Dixon…"

He paused, turned back to look at me, "Sir?"

"Your team is still short one, isn't that why you wanted to talk to the General?"

"Yes, Sir," I could hear the suspicion in his voice. "I've got a replacement in mind…"

"I'll take care of that for you, then, Dave. I've got the perfect candidate. They're sending a new Russian next week..." I smiled smugly, waving a hand at him. "Dismissed. Dos vedanya."

He saluted and turned to go.

"Oh, and Colonel…"

Dixon stopped and turned back, looking at me with an oh-no look on his face.

"Your team, I've got the *perfect* assignment for you. P4D-600."

"P4D-600, Sir?"

"Yeah, you know the place, Dixon, the one with the monsoon rains. The mosquitoes as big as eagles. The swamp gas laced with sulfur. And the friendly natives who insist you drink their moonshine which tastes like something that's passed through a horse."

Dixon gulped. "Thank you, General."

"You've welcome, Colonel. Very welcome." I watched Dixon leave, a little of the swagger gone out of his stride.

I smiled. Daniel was oh so right when he said there were things I'd love about being a general.

**The End**

  


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> Author's Note: Thanks to Margo, Sis, and all those who feedback

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> © November 2004 Don't own Stargate. I grovel before those who do.

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